


The Gatekeeper

by mrv3000



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, The Sign of Three Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrv3000/pseuds/mrv3000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock fancies himself the guardian of a party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gatekeeper

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Spoilers for The Sign of Three. (And in fact this fic will probably be horribly jossed by the next episode.)
> 
> Thanks to beck_liz for betaing!

Sherlock shifted his stance at the front door and narrowed his eyes at the couple getting out of the cab.

"No," he called out.

"Sorry?" the man asked, half-way around the cab and sporting a dim sort of expression.

"Clearly you've both just come from having a curry. Your breath will put Mary off. Something you might have thought of had you a scrap of sense." Sherlock waved at the cab. "Go on. Back in you get."

They both blinked at him.

Sherlock sighed, again wishing that Mary didn't have so many "friends." It's not as if she needed ones as brainless as these. "Shall I make it simpler? You. Breath. Bad." He motioned with his hands, hoping visual aids would help. "Mary. Sick. Everywhere. Blaaarg."

They grimaced at him but finally complied by getting back into the cab. Sherlock felt a lovely buzz of satisfaction as he watched the cab turn the corner out of sight.

The door behind him opened. "Sherlock. Tea?" John held out a cup. "Are you sure you don't want to come in and sit down? I mean, I know parties for expectant parents aren't really your thing."

"I'm surprised they're _your_ thing. More of an American tradition," he said with a nose crinkle, "but I suppose it rubbed off on Mary during the time she spent abroad."

"Yeah. Lucky, lucky us. So...inside?" John had a sort of pleading look in his eyes, but Sherlock couldn't just leave his post. This was for the greater good.

"No, I prefer to at least pretend I still smoke. Clears the head."

John narrowed his eyes. "Is this some sort of way to avoid us? Or admit it - the decorations are weirding you out."

"Yes, that's exactly it. All those...balloons." Sherlock waved his hand. Balloons were decidedly not weird (unless filled with sulfur hexafluoride - now that had been an interesting case), but it was as good excuse as any.

John chuckled. "All right then, but you do have to come in eventually," he said as he headed back towards baby party central.

Sherlock returned his attention to the street, scanning the area while sipping his tea. Ah, John's tea. He'd tried to get John to come over daily to make him tea, but John was a cruel, cruel man. Or at least "not a bloody tea service, Sherlock." So Sherlock had started spending longer and longer periods on John and Mary's sofa. (Better chance of John's tea appearing in front of him that way.) But unfortunately he was fairly certain his increased sofa presence had resulted in him having to attend this baby thing.

The next to arrive was another man and woman. Sherlock's eyes darted over their bodies, landing on the gift in the woman's hand.

"Absolutely not," Sherlock boomed, stalking towards them. "New parents, thrilled to be getting out of the house, but will spend the entire time talking about their baby -- who is completely average, by the way -- and will be offering extremely useless tips on parenting since you've already determined John and Mary will be horrible parents." He pointed at the present. "A book on parenting you've no doubt been following with mediocre results. I will be forced to do something dire if this party is subjected to your presence."

"Oi! How dare--"

" _DIRE._ LEAVE."

The woman whispered to the man, words like "Holmes" and "psychopath" reaching Sherlock's ears. All it took was for Sherlock to raise an eyebrow before they then scuttled back down the pavement, taking their insipid book with them.

"So," Mary's voice called behind him. "Are you planning on running everyone off? Or, I know, you want all those mini quiches to yourself."

Sherlock turned with a sniff. "Not everyone has been run off. There are plenty of dull people inside who brought tolerable gifts."

Mary smirked, although was clearly trying to hide it.

"And it's unlikely that their collective IQs will cause too much damage to the foetus, although perhaps I should document this case."

" _Sherlock_."

"Yes, alright, fine. You clearly do not care about suitability--"

Footsteps behind him. Sherlock twirled and twitched. Mary's hand shot out and squeezed his arm.

"Portia! So glad you could make it," Mary greeted.

Sherlock opened his mouth and Mary gripped tighter. He closed it, but he may have been vibrating a bit.

"So glad to be invited," Portia simpered as she spread probable germs through cheek kissing to Mary. Sherlock glared, daring her to get anywhere near his cheeks. She cleared her throat and escaped, most likely to go lick John. It would have the same effect, at least.

"Now," said Mary, relaxing her grip, "it's time you came in and joined us."

Sherlock grunted.

"Look, I know this isn't your favorite thing, so if you stay for one hour with a minimum of sarcasm I'll let you test out how well John's baby-proofed the flat."

That had _very_ real possibilities. "Practical testing involving all known scenarios?"

"Erm...well, scenarios a baby could get into."

"Fine."

"A _baby_ , Sherlock."

"Yes, right. Hence the term 'baby-proof.'"

Mary studied his face for a lie, but nodded before heading inside.

"Let's get this baby party started!" Sherlock declared with a spring in his step. First-hand experience of setting an aspidistra ablaze at eleven months was about to become useful.


End file.
